KARIM AT THE PALACE
NASR'ULLAH was true to his promise, for he saw that Karim was large for
his age, and had already learned how to manage horses.
Ardashir Khan, the agha's son, was very fond of riding, and was often
in the saddle. Sometimes there was simply a ride across country to
the hills, made gay by feats of horsemanship. The young khan and
his friends, with their servants, rode madly at full speed in small
circles, or pretended to get into a fight and fired their guns when at
full run. At other times there was a party to hunt quail or partridge
with the aid of falcons and dogs.
But one of the pleasantest excursions was to a garden-house,
surrounded by tall trees and grassy lawns. Here the young khans, in
a cool porch beside a pool of clear water, drank the tea prepared by
their servants, and smoked the pipe, while they enjoyed each other's
jokes and stories.
One story of which no one seemed to tire, if it was well told, was
about the disappointments of the lovers Leila and Majnoun.
THE STORY OF LEILA AND MAJNOUN
Leila was the beautiful daughter of a chieftain who camped with his
followers in tents, and wandered over the country, going wherever he
could find water and grass for his flocks of sheep. Once he stopped
near a village where dwelt a noble young man, Majnoun. Leila lived a
freer life than the women and girls who were in the villages, and was
allowed to wander over the hillsides with uncovered face; in this way
she happened to meet Majnoun. They fell deeply in love with each other,
and often met among the lonely hillside rocks. Leila's father did not
know of this, or he would have been displeased, for Majnoun was not a
chieftain, like himself.
One day Majnoun was astounded to find the place empty where the chief's
tent had been. It seemed hopeless to find him, for no one knew in
which direction he had gone, but Majnoun did not give up. He left
his father's house and wandered through all the neighbouring region,
searching for the encampment. Although his search was in vain, he loved
Leila so that he could not give up, but wandered in all directions
searching eagerly for her.
The weeks lengthened to months, and the months to years, but still he
could not find her.
Meantime Leila was as much distressed as was Majnoun. But it was
impossible for her to search, for she was a woman, and must remain at
home. All she could do was to weep in secret and sing songs or compose
little verses that told of her grief.
After a time the chief of another tribe, who had heard of Leila's
beauty, came with many horsemen and splendid presents to ask her father
if he might marry her. Her father was much pleased, but poor Leila
was heart broken. When her father heard that she was unwilling to be
married he became angry.
"My daughter is of age," he said, "and her suitor is wealthy and of
high rank. What more can she want? She must be married to the chief."
So the wedding was celebrated with a great deal of expense, and every
one was very happy except the bride.
There was now no hope for Leila, but she could not forget her lover.
Long years passed, and she heard nothing of Majnoun. Yet she did not
forget him. She used to wander alone over the mountain side near her
husband's tents, singing of her disappointment.
One day she heard her song answered by a well remembered voice,
singing, like her, of a long lost love. And so at last they had found
each other. But it was a very sad meeting. Leila was too honourable to
disgrace her husband and herself by running off with Majnoun, and he
was too noble to wish her to do so. They could only express their grief
in song, and then bid farewell to each other for ever.
After Karim had become well acquainted with the governor's servants he
persuaded Musa, who had charge of such matters, to allow him to be one
of the men who waited upon the agha when he had callers. Karim stood
at the door with hands covered until it was time to bring in the tea
or "kalian," or water pipe, in which the smoke was drawn first through
water and then through a long tube to cool it. Karim brought it in and
silently placed it before a guest, who took a few whiffs, and then
passed it to the man next him. This man did the same, and in this way
the pipe was passed along the whole line of guests, sitting against the
walls on either side of the governor.
The tea was served in little tumblers. It was made with plenty of
sugar, and was so hot that the guest made a noise when drinking it,
drawing in air to keep from scalding his mouth.
The governor usually treated his guests very politely, although he did
not rise as they entered, because he was of higher rank than they.
When he wished to show very great honour to a caller he beckoned to
him to come and sit by his side. He kissed him on both cheeks, and
asked him quickly, "Is your health good? Is your appetite good? Are
you healthy, and fat? Your coming is delightful. Your arrival is most
pleasant. You have come on my eyes."
But he was not always so gracious. Once a very rich khan called,
bringing a letter which he wished to present. It happened that he was
very near-sighted, and usually wore glasses. But to wear glasses when
calling on the governor would have been impolite, so he took them
off before entering. It was an amusing sight to see his eyes rolling
as he walked up the carpet trying to pick out the governor from among
the callers who were seated by him. To have given the letter to the
wrong man would have been a great insult. Luckily, he made no mistake,
and, bowing low, handed the governor the letter. The governor opened
and read it, then tore it up and threw it out of the window, and began
to converse again with the other callers. Meantime the khan stood
patiently waiting, for to speak without being first spoken to was
impolite, and to leave without permission an insult.
At last he said to the governor, "With your permission, may I be
excused?"
"You were excused before you came," replied the governor.
So the khan managed to get away, backing all the way to the door (to
turn around would be improper), and bowing again and again.